Waiting for Zephyr
by avroillusion
Summary: No matter how old she got, she always waited for him. Every day, she would climb up into the lookout to see if he would return. However, there was still a part of her that knew he would never come back. PostWW.


No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't help doing it. Even when she had grown up, every once and a while, she found herself climbing the old, wooden ladder and looking out to the sea. She was taller now, and her dress felt thin against her back, but she didn't mind. She knew he wouldn't approve of it, the idea of her standing there like that would bother him if he knew. He told he not to look or wait for him; and when she asked if he was ever coming back he just smiled and turned away. She was young, and while she knew what he meant, she still didn't understand why. Maybe she still didn't understand, and that was why she kept going there.

Her children started doing it too, even if they didn't understand it. Nobody had to go up there anymore. The pirates were gone; as if they were blown away by a hot summer wind; so they didn't have to watch for them. That's what the watchtower was for, and he used to tell her that all the time. While the island was peaceful, it had two pirate bases around it, and the tower wasn't for little girls or seagull queens. He always said it with a sort of disdainful impatience. It was as if he thought she didn't know any better because she was younger than he was. That was a long time ago, when hunting for seashells was an adventure and the forest beyond the bridge was somewhere angels feared to tread.

She never was looking for pirates, unless that was what he had become.

Eventually, she grew old and her bones became too fragile to climb the ladder to the tower. Instead, she settled to sitting on the back porch, staring out on the horizon. She practically lived out there now. At first, she only went inside to eat and sleep, but then she took to eating her meals outside and only a thick blanket and stars accompanied her at night. The only time she'd get inside was when it rained, and that was because she couldn't see anything on the water. Her children still didn't understand it; they said it was because looking at the ocean made her happy. She had always been like that, and their dear mother was too old to enjoy much anymore.

She saw him once.

It was only that one time; it was like nothing had changed. He just came sailing in from the north with the sun's glare and favourable winds to his back. Other sailors always wondered how he managed to do it; there never seemed a moment when the wind wasn't blowing his way. You may say that this sailor could have been anyone, but she knew. Nobody else had eyes like he did. They were sharp and piercing, and nothing missed his gaze, whether it was a monster hiding under the bed or the product of an evil so ancient that no one remembered it. He was smiling a wide, crooked smile and his blond hair that her grandmother battled to keep neat blew all over his face. It was as if he was twelve again, like he never stopped playing with seagulls and moved on to pirate queens.

She had so many things she wanted to tell him; so much had happened since he had left. _Zill had his coming of age party a while ago. You should have seen him. He tried to act so much like you. _He slowed down and docked the boat; a crimson, noble looking thing that boasted a loving craftsmanship not seen in her time. If you stared at it long enough, you'd swear you'd seen it blink. _Sue-Belle and Mesa got married, can you believe it? I was the flowergirl; Grandma worked so hard on the dress._ He jumped into the sea and swam towards the shore. Other people would shake their heads and wonder why he never used the dock, but she supposed that he thought it was more fun. He was always looking for other ways to do things._ Grandma died while you were gone…I cried a lot but I'm alright now…you should have seen her, she looked so peaceful. _He turned, as if he heard her; and there was no mistaking it. He was here. He was home

It was later that evening that they saw that she'd stopped breathing. She had gone so quietly and peacefully in her favourite lawn chair. You'd swear she was just smiling in her sleep. The news traveled fast around the island; in no time, they all sent their condolences and grieved by her side, even if they didn't understand it. She had flown over the sea and upwards, just like she always wanted to, and they had no reason to be sad. After, she was buried next to the tower that bore her name; it was her favourite place, and the seagulls she loved always circled around it.

They didn't have to, though. She didn't need to wait anymore.


End file.
